


You don’t want to get Gabriel upset with you

by Dusty



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Love, M/M, Pining, Sweet little lies, Unreasonable Amounts of Fluff, kink prompt, mild spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 19:45:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19448293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty/pseuds/Dusty
Summary: Filling a prompt from a Good Omens Kink Meme: "Heaven gives Aziraphale a punishment spanking". I only know about it because of HipHop Anonymous' excellent fill.





	You don’t want to get Gabriel upset with you

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Spare the Rod](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19402681) by [HipHopAnonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HipHopAnonymous/pseuds/HipHopAnonymous). 



> Aziraphale ominously saying ‘you don’t want to get Gabriel upset with you’, followed by looking like he’s either received a particularly unpleasant punishment or witnessed one, has intrigued me no end.

He had been warned, of course. Aziraphale was known for getting carried away, off in his own world, they would say, distracted by opportunities to miracle nice things for humans, which hadn’t been in the weekly plan. As much as the angel didn’t like getting into trouble, he still couldn’t see anything wrong with bringing love and light to the world, so as discreetly as possible, he went about un-burning cookies, befuddling parking wardens, and restoring umbrellas that had been turned inside out. The latter was usually down to Crowley, of course.

His final verbal warning from Gabriel was unsettling. He was summoned and scolded harshly for interfering in mortal matters. In June 1956, Aziraphale had encouraged a certain Mr McCartney of Liverpool to buy a trumpet for his 14 year old son’s birthday. This was not part of the great plan, and set in motion a very powerful force for music, peace, and positive vibrations which Heaven realised would throw the balance of love and hate out of whack for decades. 

Gabriel had given Aziraphale a dramatic dressing down that left the wayward angel feeling tearful, and warned him that if he stepped out of line again, he would be punished. 

Aziraphale tried. He really did. But that was the trouble with the world. There was so much… temptation. Especially in the summer of 1969.

It was a lie that had worked before, but this time, he was truly caught out. So there he was, summoned again, standing meekly in front of Gabriel as the Archangel glowered at him. Michael was smirking while pretending to take notes.

‘Here we are again, Aziraphale,’ scolded Gabriel. 

Aziraphale hung his head. 

Gabriel exhaled dramatically. ‘I’ve warned you, many times. It hurts me that you would lie to me. You know you have to obey. You’re an angel!’

‘I made a mistake,’ said Aziraphale weakly. 

‘Well, yes you did. And we’re all very disappointed in you.’

Aziraphale looked wretched, and Gabriel sighed again. 

‘Look, I get it. It was one of those monumental earth events and you wanted to be there. But you can’t go sneaking around behind Heaven’s back. You have a job to do.’

‘I understand,’ said the angel, miserably.

‘Well, then. I have no choice. I warned you what would happen.’

Aziraphale looked at Gabriel desperately. ‘Oh, _please_ , I’m sorry.’

Gabriel held up his hand. ‘Now, now. No need to be distressed, Aziraphale. This is heaven. We punish with love. You know how that goes.’

‘Yes,’ said Aziraphale, crestfallen. 

‘Hey! Never did me any harm!’ said Gabriel brightly. He sat in his chair and beckoned Aziraphale over to him. 

The angel nervously complied. 

‘Remove the clothes,’ commanded Gabriel. Aziraphale pushed his trousers and briefs down, before being gently guided into Gabriel’s lap. He had to hand it to Gabriel - he felt quite safe, and rather contrite. He supposed he had been a bad angel, and not just because he’d been caught. He heard the sound of a camera clicking and knew it was Michael, recording the disciplinary action for their ‘files’. 

Gabriel spoke evenly. ‘Now, I am going to spank you, and it is going to hurt, and you are going to remember not to lie to the Archangel Gabriel. You won’t do it again, will you?’ 

‘No, sir!’ said Aziraphale. 

‘Damn right you won’t!’ He brought the palm of his hand down in a sharp slap across the angel’s round cheeks. His other hand pinned Aziraphale securely in place. A flurry of smacks ensued, and Aziraphale tried to take it, gasping softly.

It lasted a good two minutes, by which time Aziraphale was crying out loudly, and to his shame, tears were streaming down his face. His bottom was a terrible crimson. Gabriel had continued to chide him, though Aziraphale was simply agreeing with everything he said rather than actually listening. 

The next time he actually heard the Archangel’s words was when he was standing up, his trousers restored, and Gabriel had a firm grip on his elbows.

‘Do not make me do that again, Aziraphale. It hurts me more than it hurts you.’

The throbbing in the angel’s rear end made him doubt it, but he couldn’t discount sincerity _entirely_ from Gabriel. He knew he genuinely cared for his angels. When it suited him. 

Gabriel stood back from Aziraphale, who immediately went to rub his bottom. ‘I’m returning you direct to your shop. Can’t have you seen like this.’

He clicked his fingers. 

Instantly, Aziraphale appeared in his closed bookshop. He wiped a tear from his face, which he thought might be as red as his backside. 

‘Aziraphale?’ 

The angel jumped. Crowley was sprawled on his Edwardian chaise lounge, exuding his very best John Lennon energy.

‘Oh, hello Crowley,' said Aziraphale, trying to appear normal. 'What are you doing here?’

‘Thought it was rather odd that your shop was closed in the middle of the day _due to sickness_ ,’ said Crowley, indicating Aziraphale’s handwritten note on the door. ‘Thought I’d make sure nothing was amiss.’ 

‘Right,’ said Aziraphale, distracted. He attempted to sit down and winced, the contact burning, so immediately stood back up again.

Crowley frowned. ‘Angel, did you get into trouble?’ 

‘Why would you think that?’ said Aziraphale, as casually as he could.

Crowley gave him his best _don't be an idiot_ glare. ‘It’s rather obvious Heaven just dropped you off - the air shimmers when they do that, the ponces. And you’re acting like you just had your ass whooped. I’d know that little dance anywhere.’ He grimaced, thinking of his younger days before the fall.

‘Well, if you must know, yes.’ His voice cracked. 

The demon sat forward, studying his angel. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes,’ mumbled Aziraphale, squirming slightly. ‘I suppose I deserved it.’

‘Whatever did you do?’

Aziraphale blushed. ‘They found out I lied. Very serious business when an angel fibs.’

‘Yes, I remember. What did you lie about?’

The angel fidgeted and tried to perch on the edge of his desk. There was a sharp intake of breath, then he relaxed into it. ‘I told them I had to go to Woodstock, the music festival in America, because I knew you’d be there and I’d have to thwart your long weekend of sordid temptations.’

‘Woodstock?’ complained Crowley with disgust. ‘All that flower power and hippy crap? No chance.’

‘I know.’

Crowley tried not to appear too impressed. ‘ _Aziraphale_ ,’ he intoned with mock disapproval. ‘Using me as your alibi? Tut tut.’

Aziraphale cringed. 

Crowley grinned. ‘So what were you doing there?’

‘Well, like you said. Flower power. Good vibrations. All that concentrated love and community. I wanted to experience it. It was euphoric.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Crowley, standing up and crossing over to Aziraphale. ‘Surely Heaven wouldn’t have anything against you attending something like that?’

‘Ah well,’ said Aziraphale, sheepishly. ‘I was supposed to be in the Isle of Wight performing various blessings for a bookclub, so I had to come up with a very good reason to go to Woodstock instead.’

‘Oh,’ said Crowley. ‘Oh dear. How did they find out?’

‘Michael saw you. In Brighton. Sabotaging the coin pusher machines.’ 

‘Ha!’ laughed Crowley. ‘That was a fun night.’

‘Yes, well.’ Aziraphale winced again, deciding perching wasn’t an option. He stood, shifting uncomfortably.

‘You could have said something. I would have helped,’ said Crowley, sincerely.

‘I was trying not to involve you, ever since I gave you the - you know what.’

Crowley stepped closer to the angel, reading his face with concern. ‘You need to be more cautious, angel. We can’t have our head offices breathing down our necks. If you’re planning something like that again, let me help cover for you.’

‘Oh all right,’ grumbled Aziraphale, tired of getting told off, and feeling rather flustered. Crowley fixed him with an admonishing stare, reached around, and patted him softly on his bottom. 

Aziraphale opened his mouth to protest, expecting a bloom of pain. Instead, there was no pain at all. It was gone - no sting, no throb, no heat. He gazed at Crowley, wide eyed. ‘Oh _thank you_!’ he said.

Crowley gave a dramatic click of the fingers as he sauntered towards the door. A cup of fresh, steaming cocoa appeared on Aziraphale’s desk in his favourite white angel mug.

‘Oh!’ said the angel, delighted. He sat, comfortably this time, and savoured the chocolatey scent.

He saw Crowley stop in the doorway. ‘Be careful,’ said the demon sternly. And then he was gone.

Aziraphale felt a warm blush flood up from somewhere he shouldn’t think about right up to his ears. Surely it wasn’t holy to feel this warm and fuzzy?

That night, he dreamed of his punishment. But it wasn’t a nightmare. It didn’t _really_ hurt, and Crowley was holding him safe and tight across his knees, and chiding him gently. That warm blush was there again. Far too much contact with a demon - so wrong. And he was to be _careful_.

He awoke with a gasp, face down on the bed, hands twisted in the sheets, covers kicked off, body shuddering. He became steadily aware of something wet and sticky beneath him. 

‘Oh _not again_ ,’ he murmured. ‘Oh dear oh dear oh dear…’


End file.
